


<3

by seasonschange



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fluff and Humor, Gaige as Axton's little sister, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, M/M, No actual plot only banter and vault hunters falling in lurv, Pining Axton, and Gaige being a nagging little brat, the deathclap is a joke btw but also im defo gonna write them a HEA, we still don't know what's underneath Zer0's suit/helmet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:58:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonschange/pseuds/seasonschange
Summary: First Zer0 steals his kills. Then he steals his heart. The fucker.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my BL mates <3  
> (also apparently haikus aren't _exactly_ based on syllables, so I'm not always gonna do a 7-5-7 thing)

* * *

Five against one isn't the worst odds Axton's faced since landing on Pandora.

 _It's actually a nice change_ , he thinks as he measures with a glare the five bandits who've casually cornered him in a dark alley of Sanctuary. 

One of the guys twitches, visibly uncomfortable when Axton's eyes focus on the slits in his mask, and Axton's mouth stretches in a lazy grin.

"Aw, you there to arrest me, fellas?"

The bandits are all but quaking in their boots with fear of the Big Bad vault hunter, but the bounty on his head has made more than one dumbass with a gun foam at the mouth. So they may be scared shitless, but they're still ready to die for the huge amount of money promised in exchange of his vault hunter hide.

This isn't just tough guys putting on a tough guys show. There's gonna be blood spilled today, and it's gonna be either theirs or Axton's. 

"You come with us quietly," one of them growls beneath the dirty bandages covering his (no doubt fugly) face. "And maybe we'll let you live."

The others burst out laughing like it's the funniest joke they've heard all day. Axton grinds his teeth while their shoulders shake. They sound like a hoard of bullymongs with a bad case of the flu. When Axton's laughter mixes with theirs a moment later, it's humorless, his eyes darkening with determination and fury. He's not a fan of being the butt of other people's jokes, and the fuckers are gonna pay for this mistake.

Still faking laughter, he grabs his shotgun. 

But before the five bandits can mirror his action, and before he's had time to pull the trigger and send their sorry asses to the afterlife — there's a swift, sharp sound like a blade swinging through the air.

Axton's eyes are trained on the bandits the whole time, and for the first handful of seconds following the sound, he sees nothing. Then suddenly, all five bandits' eyes widen in shock.

Right before their upper bodies slide from where they used to be solidly attached to their legs, and fall one after the other to the ground with a sickening squelch. 

"Woahhh, what the fuck!"

Axton immediately takes a couple of steps back, eyes darting from one corner of the alley to the other in search of the weapon that just sliced the poor suckers like salami. His brain has a hard time processing what the hell could have done something like that, and he's almost considering turning around and running for his life. No looking back, potential loot be damned.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he catches something flickering like a hologram with a bad signal. The next moment, the tall silhouette of a man has materialized to his right. The man is wearing a dark suit complete with the helmet shrouding his identity. Axton quickly discards the idea of him being another masked bandit. There's an ominous aura about the man, and if he's the one responsible for the carnage that just occurred, he's way more capable than your regular dumb fuck on Pandora. Axton's considering the probability that the guy's a vault hunter, too. Almost every skilled SOB Axton has met has turned out to be one.

When Axton's eyes fall to the stranger's weapon, the scene before him finally starts making sense — the mystery man is holding a neon blue katana, and the blade is dripping with the blood of the bandits.

Axton takes another careful step back; this time, to the left and away from the other man. There's no shame in knowing when to keep one's distances, and after watching the stranger cut through flesh and bone while cloaked by an invisibility device, Axton's not so hot about getting too close to the silent assassin. But before he can open his mouth to demand a fucking introduction, or an explanation for the guy's unwanted presence at all — a display screen powers on at the front of his helmet, and a message appears, no doubt aimed at Axton.

> **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

Axton squints at the symbol, and lowers his shotgun.

"Err... what's that supposed to mean."

The strange symbol blinks out, and the guy is left standing there with his chest expanding with each intake of labored breath. Axton feels the sudden urge to squirm under a gaze he can't see, and it makes him irritable.

And rash. 

"Whatever. Who the hell are you? And why did you do  _that_ for?" Axton gestures vaguely in the direction of the five corpses. The other guy turns his back to him as if to dismiss Axton altogether, and returns to the pile of mutilated bandits. Axton's temper flares up again. "I don't need no help from some punk-ass bitch!"

Still no reply.

So Axton finally clamps his mouth shut and watches the guy wipe his blade on one of the poor bastard's pant leg. The absence of reaction or even retaliation that follows his outburst is just as irritating as the unwanted rescue, but it's also a relief. It means the fighting is over for now, and deeming the other guy as no threat to him Axton shoves his shotgun back in the holster hanging at his back. He thinks maybe the guy's just fucking mute, or got his tongue eaten by skags. Who the fuck knows. Axton sure as hell doesn't care to find out the reason for the stupid helmet display.

Or maybe the guy's simply a rude asshole. 

Axton watches, nostrils flaring in irritation, as the stranger proceeds to inspect every pocket and backpack for valuables. Axton can only stand there and seethe because it wasn't his kills, so he can lay no claim over any possessions left behind by the dead. And from what he can see, these assholes had quite a wad of cash and some kind of modified shield that even Mr I-Can-Turn-Invisible-At-Will seems to consider nice enough to hang on his own belt, discarding his previous model. Just his luck.

Axton almost jumps out of his skin when the guy turns back to him and his voice finally filters through the helmet.

_The punk-ass bitch: five / The bad-tempered hunter: zero / O-W-N-E-D_

He's almost singing the last part.

Scratch that, Axton's absolutely sure he heard him sing like a little brat. He splutters from both stupefaction and rage, and almost chokes on his own saliva. And what the fuck is wrong with the guy's voice, anyway? Can't he just communicate like a normal person with his mask off?

"Hey, listen here, you little shit," he spits out, "that's cus I wasn't expecting some creepy dude to be lurking in the shadows! And those guys were _mine_ , alright? Next time you won't catch me off guard that easy!"

The stranger cocks his head to the side, and makes a low humming sound.

_Speaking of next times? / Your eagerness is foolish / How adorable_

Axton almost splutters again at being called "adorable". He's never before been slighted in so many ways in so little time. First to be "rescued" from five miserable fuckers he could have gotten rid of with his hands bound behind his back and his eyes closed, and now the stranger was adding insult to the injury. If he hadn't seen what the man's capable of, he would already be swinging at him trying to knock his helmet off.

Instead he mentally counts to ten, biting off each number, and keeps his rigid fists lowered. But only barely.

"You know what, asshole, you're on! Next time, I'm stealing  _your_ kills, see how you like it when I own _your_ ass!"

Axton doesn't flinch a bit when the guy walks back to him. He makes sure to glare at the helmet, wondering if the other is giving him the same look back. As if guessing his thoughts, the stranger decides to show him a preview of his feelings as he nonchalantly passes Axton by.

The screen lights up, and Axton vows to murder the guy.

> **XOXO**

"Yeah, go fuck yourself, too!"

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, I _AM_ gonna explore a headcanon of what's under Zer0's suit.

* * *

Two months later, and not just a few successful jobs under his belt, Axton has made himself a good name as a highly efficient mercenary.

However, nobody sane of mind would call him "trustworthy" anytime soon, especially not after he got hired by a bandit leader to assist his gang in retaking their stronghold—only to shoot said leader in the back once the deed was done because Axton simply can't stomach bandits. His years serving in the Dahl military have deeply ingrained that distaste for the Pandoran lowlifes, and because he's a deserter doesn't mean he'll also get rid of that constant indoctrination that easily. That—and bandits are also too unpredictable. The Pandoran sun has long fried their brains, and Axton sleeps better at night knowing there's one less of them walking the surface of this cursed planet.

Nowadays, Axton's kind of famous.

Hyperion already did a pretty good job after declaring him a public enemy and putting a price on his head, simply for being a vault hunter who refused to bow to the authority of some shady corporation. But Axton hasn't been sitting with his thumbs up his ass either, hating the idea that he could owe anything to Hyperion. He actually feels _pride_ when he thinks of his personal accomplishments; the ones that push the people of Sanctuary to seek him out about their personal matters, to demand his advice or to hire him for the dirty work they're too scared or incapable of enterprising.

Everyone knows Axton's name, and it's a very nice feeling.

More than a couple of months ago, Axton would never have believed  _any_ kind of life was worth living on this miserable rock.

Now it's  _his_ rock. Or, well, he's sharing it with a few other trigger-happy legends, a few deranged masterminds, and everyone else who's skilled enough and brave enough to keep fighting for their survival.

All in all, Pandora has started to feel like home. A dirty, smelly home, where every living thing is either trying to eat you, or rob you blind, or both.

If anyone asks him, he'll say it's _just_ the right amount of fucked up.

And in celebration of another well-conducted business, even though it'll leave a nasty scar on his shoulder where the skin melted around the damned corrosive bullet wound—Axton's offered to pay for everyone's first round the moment he walked into Moxxi's, earning himself a chorus of drunken cheers.

* * *

 

After a few drinks, Axton's worked himself into a pleasant buzz. So when a tiny, yet strong arm falls around his shoulders, his reaction is delayed.

"Hey, bro. Whatcha doing?"

Axton looks up and manages a half-hearted wave, but his sister is already gone. Turning slowly, he watches Gaige drag a stool from the other side of the bar before sitting down next to him, her legs folded under her to appear tall enough to face Axton, her arms stretched over the width of the counter.

There's a tiny voice inside Axton's head that whispers, for the umpteenth time, how inappropriate it is to let a _teenager_ inside a bar full of drunkards and lecherous degenerates. But that's a fight he's given up a long time ago, and he knows if he brings it up ever again he might get that black eye his sweet sister promised him the last time.

"Getting drunk?" He eventually rasps in reply.

"Are you asking or telling?" Gaige snorts, nudging his shoulder playfully.

"Gaige, darling," Moxxi's affable voice reaches them, and she makes her way to their side of the counter armed with a bottle of ale in one hand, and a towel in the other, "how are things? Still tinkering at the shop?"

"Yep!" Gaige enthuses, her cheeks bright red and her eyes gleaming. "Marcus really liked my last design, and we're receiving the parts for our first prototype next week!"

"Oh, sugar, what are you still doing working for that slob? You should start your own business!"

Axton shakes his head without looking away from the bottom of his empty glass. "Already been there, Moxx. She just won't do it."

Gaige scoffs.

Axton shrugs, and holds up his glass for a refill.

"It's not that I don't _want_ to work on my own," she tells Moxxi, suddenly sounding very mature and professional for her age, "but you know, I like Marcus. He only threatens to fire me once in a while! And... he also said he'd kill me if I tried to leave, so that's definitely going into consideration, too."

"Hah," Moxxi chuckles, "that old bat is all talk."

"Tried telling her that, too," Axton helpfully supplies, even though it's starting to feel like nobody's paying him any attention. "Still won't do it."

He shakes his glass, hoping the bartender will notice he's still thirsty. And too sober for his taste.

Gaige squints at the both of them.

"I'd just rather not find out who's right and who's wrong at the expense of my _very_  dear, very young existence, _thank you very much_."

"Pffffbt. Whatever, it's your call."

Axton nods in agreement a little too vehemently, and the room is spinning when he stops. Then Moxxi finally seems to remember his existence, and comes around to filling his glass for what must be the tenth time tonight.

Axton downs the liquor, some kind of whiskey directly imported from one satellite planet or another—anywhere that wasn't Pandora where virtually nothing could be grown or produced that wasn't toxic to Terrans.

* * *

 

At his fourth unsuccessful attempt to wrestle a bottle of good old whiskey from Gaige ( _fuck, she's too young for this! Fuck, fuck, fuck)_ , there's a sudden shift in the air when a patron approaches the counter to his left.

And Axton is about to dismiss that micro-disturbance when he spots the weirdly shaped hand that lands next to his on the counter. And since he's way more inebriated than originally planned, he forgets about scolding his sister on the spot, to focus what little brain cells he's got left on the three-fingered glove. It looks oddly familiar, drumming patiently against the polished wood, but he'll be damned if he can remember where from.

Catching the thread of a single coherent thought right now is like padding through viscous mud.

Nope, it's not coming back to him. 

"Hey there, killer," Moxxi's voice is sweeter than honey, "here to celebrate, huh? What's it gonna be tonight? And don't worry about the price, it's all on this guy."

Axton can only guess Moxxi is nodding in his direction. He can't check for himself, too slow and too busy trying to part his fingers in an imitation of the gloved hand a few inches next to his.

He keeps failing, clumsy like a newborn babe.

_It is unnecessary. / To owe someone anything / Is to stoop too low_

Axton snorts.

Who the fuck is too prissy to seize the chance of a free drink?

Around these parts?

Finally tearing his gaze away from the object of his drunken fascination, Axton peers into... not a face, but the black, sleek surface of a helmet.

_Damn it. I remember now._

It's _that_  motherfucker from a few weeks ago, the guy he's been trying his damnedest to forget—alongside his shame. And Axton had been thinking _just_ this morning how nice it was that their paths had never crossed again.

Until tonight.

Axton remains frozen in place after recognition hits. If he had been anywhere near sober, he'd have found a dozen comebacks already, each nastier than the other. But unfortunately, all he can do is stand and glare.

Or hope his eyebrows are indeed doing what they're supposed to, to convey all the resentment boiling under the surface.

The asshole looks away first, slowly.

And Axton is about to hoot in victory but then Moxxi is handing the guy his drink, which is the reason why he's now walking back out the door where he came from.

_Still a fucking asshole, didn't even say hello!_

He stares after him, really fucking stares like his brain is one hundred percent focused on boring twin holes into the guy's retreating back. He's just too fucking drunk and sluggish to shake off the humiliation and anger burning through him at virtually  _anything_ this guy does in his presence.

Maybe he can set the other vault hunter on fire with his eyes? If he wishes for it hard enough, or something?

"Hey!"

Fingers snapping in front of his face.

Axton blinks in confusion.

Gaige is looking at him like he's a basket case, and the burn of humiliation flares all anew until he can feel it on his face. Reaching for his glass, Axton empties it, vowing it's the last.

"Glad you're done eye-fucking that dude."

And that's when Axton spits the mouthful of alcohol he just took, spraying the counter in front of him.

"Jesus!! I wasn'... _I wasn'_..." He grunts for good measure at the end of his indignant babble and wipes his chin with his least dirty sleeve.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Who's that anyway?"

Axton shrugs.

"Dunno... sum asshole. Only met 'im once."

"And?"

"And," Axton pauses, wondering how the fuck people change topics, "he's an asshole."

_Very eloquent, Axton._

But fuck if he knows anything else about the guy. He doesn't need to. He knows enough.

Gaige lets out an aggravated sigh, and turns to Moxxi. "So, who's the guy in the onesie?"

"That's Zer0, sugar. And if I were you, I'd steer clear. He's not your type."

"Oh, that's alright." Gaige pauses and gives Axton a cheeky grin. "He's for my brother."

Moxxi snorts, although she tries to mascarade it as a polite cough.

Axton makes a face, and tries to grab his young sibling's face to wipe that smugness off it and stop the nonsense spilling out of her, but Gaige is faster, catching him by the wrist and pushing him away.

"He a vault hunter, too?" Gaige keeps prodding, and despite himself Axton gives up the fight and leans in closer to the woman behind the counter, avidly awaiting more intel on his nemesis.

Yep, he just decided that. He's definitely nemesis material.

If he hadn't been a prick just now Axton would have refused to pay for his drink  _anyway_. Just because.

"One of the most famous there is."

"Never heard of him," Gaige counters.

Axton burps out a "same here", but he's not sure any of them caught that.

"That's 'cus you don't listen, sweetie," Moxxi tells Gaige with an indulgent smile. "And who could blame you when you shoot first and ask questions later. But no, maybe you would't have heard of him. You two don't deal in the same circles, after all. He's more... high quality."

Axton sneers, mind suddenly surprisingly clear.

"Hoo-ha, _high quality_ , big deal," he jeers, fueled by righteous pettiness. "I clean places from bandits and rescue tiny skags from trees. That's quality! People around here seem to need my services, anyway. M'quality services!"

"He's an assassin," Moxxi continues, unperturbed, propping her elbows on the counter. "They hire him to take out interplanetary ambassadors. CEOs. World leaders."

"Wow! Really?" Gaige's eyes are shining with excitement. "That's so cool!"

But cool or not, the memory of that guy going out of his way to kill Axton's five ridiculous thugs tastes even more bitter with this newfound knowledge. It's clear now that it was meant as an even bigger insult.

Axton is livid.

"He was on a mission for a while, but he's back and if you want to keep that handsome face on your shoulders, you better leave that one alone."

Axton doesn't realize that part is addressed to him until Moxxi ads a "got that, honey?" and stares intently at him. "Trust me, you'd be biting off more than you can chew. And I've heard those oral skills of yours are to die for. We can't lose that, now, can we?" 

She pats his chin with a sly grin, and kisses him on the cheek—a dry peck that's mostly a tease with no hidden meaning behind it—and walks away, looking for the next customers to entertain.

It's not the first time the owner has played with him, but it's the first time Axton's had Gaige as a witness. And she doesn't look happy.

"Ew, gross!"

Ignoring his sister as she makes more retching noises next to him, Axton pushes his glass aside and slides the tip of his finger over the counter.

"Hey, err... so, would y'know what this symbol means?"

He needs to draw it a few times until Gaige seems to recognize it.

"Oh, that! That's a shrug emoji. Why you asking? No, no, wait—how the  _hell_ do you not know what a shrug emoji is?"

Axton shrugs.

_Alright. Whatever._

He spends the next couple of hours half-listening to Gaige's chatter, half-pretending he'd be the happiest man alive if he never saw that assassin ever again.

* * *

 

Even inebriated, Axton has a good memory.

A few days later, he still remembers who the assassin known as 'Zer0' is, and what he's capable of. 

Which is why it's  _royally_ pissing him off when the assassin decides to make it a habit to snipe each and every one of Axton's marks from then on. It's the pettiest shit he's ever seen, but then he only has himself to blame. He'd been the one challenging the fucker, hadn't he? _Next time_ , he'd yelled, and now that the guy was back in town and, Axton was guessing, bored as all fucks _—_ he'd decided it was time to make good on his promise to knock around Axton's pride a little more.

But perhaps the most infuriating part of this charade is that Zer0 barely shows himself, and doesn't even come to pick up any of the loot, or collect the contractual rewards. He leaves it all to Axton, like it's beneath him. 

And Axton sure as hell can't afford to spit on money and ammo as easily, so jaw locked tight and face flaming red, he begrudgingly collects. Acutely aware the entire time that this is only happening because Zer0 is  _allowing_ it. 

The power-play is quickly driving him nuts.

He tries to be faster, more precise, more efficient, but it's never enough.

Then one day, Gaige spots something on the facade of the shithole they call home.

"You know," she says, as they both stare at the scoring board someone's etched in the surface of the brick wall, "he's going  _suspiciously_ out of his way to bait you."

Axton barely hears her over the blood pounding at his ears.

It's a scoring board of his and Zer0's kills, and he's apparently loosing to the assassin by a solid couple of hundreds.

"I'm gonna kill him."

* * *

 

"I saw Zer0, today. He bought me candy."

Axton slaps the candy from her hand.

"Hey! What the fuck, bro?"

"It could be poisoned!" 

"No, it's not, you idiot! Why are you being such a dumbass?!"

Picking up the candy from the dining table (which is most of what little furniture they own), Gaige takes a seat next to him and proceeds to eat them in front of Axton. "Anyway, he's so weird."

"That's what I keep telling you!"

"Y'ah," she spits around a mouthful. "Isn't it strange that he never takes his helmet off, not even to eat or drink? And what's the deal with the haiku, anyway?"

"The haiku?"

"Yeah, you know? He speaks only in haiku, it's kinda _an-noy-ing_ as hell."

Axton blinks.

"I never noticed."

Gaige has that look again when she thinks he's way too stupid to be related to her.

"Hey, he only got 3 fingers on each hand, or something," he says, defensively, "I noticed _that_."

"Yeah, I saw, too! And his feet! Ahhh, so weird! Do you think he's an alien?! How cool would that be! Or did he... lose them in a bloody battle?!"

Axton shrugs. "Gotta ask the freak himself. I wouldn't know and I don't give a damn."

"....Rrrrrright."

"What was that?"

"Mm? Oh, nothing," she gives him her least innocent look, batting her eyelashes comically. Axton has no idea what the hell is going on in her mad scientist head. "I'll go check on my baby! There's this clap-trap unit that keeps trying to interface with it," she sighs, "I need to install some defense protocols before they get too cosy and that _thing_ starts trespassing on a daily basis."

* * *

 

One moment, Axton is shooting bad guys, minding his own business—the next, the song of a rifle that doesn't belong to him echoes through the air as it starts sniping off targets.

By now, Axton recognizes that song all too well. The assassin is here. And this time, Axton's not having it.

With an angry shout he drops his backpack to the ground, freeing his Dahl-issued turret and stomping on it until it's locked in place. Then he sets it to aim up, right in the direction of the flashes of light and the sounds of a sniper rifle firing.

The turret starts spitting rounds, and the sniper rifle goes silent as tiles and concrete explode under the assault.

Satisfied, Axton turns in time to fend off a psycho come too close, and bashes the crazy fucker's brains with his shotgun.

Once the fighting is done, and the remaining survivors have scurried back to their rat holes, Axton holsters his gun with relish. _Finally_ some action for himself! As long as he's got his girl watching his six, he's sure to dissuade that smug assassin to ever fuck with him again.

Or so he thinks until he turns around in time to see a shadow land on top of his turret.

There's a flash of electric-blue light. And before his baby can even process the threat, Zer0 slices through her like butter.

"Oh that's it, motherfucker! You're going to fucking  _regret—_ "

In the blink of an eye, a very dusty Zer0's upon him, catching the hand about to grab his shotgun and crushing it in his grip.

His knuckles crack, and Axton can't help his shout of pain. Then Zer0's other hand grabs him by the throat, before slamming him into a wall.

He always suspected the guy was stronger than he looks but it's one thing knowing it, and another to have the tall motherfucker looming over him as his fingers inexorably choke the life out of him.

_I could end you now. / I could drain you of your life. / Is this what you want?_

A pained moan is all Axton manages in reply. He's getting lightheaded, eyes swimming in tears, throat burning.

_Such a measly attempt / to take my life. / Apologize or die_

But there's no way Axton can croak a single word with the way the assassin is crushing his windpipe. _  
_

He struggles, flails, and still the empty surface of the helmet remains unmoved, watching him turn blue from lack of oxygen. Zer0 is standing so close that his hard chest is almost pressed against Axton, and in that moment Axton has no idea what moves him: panic, madness, all of the above? But his body acts before his mind can filter, and the unthinkable happens.

Axton cants his hips and pushes his body into the rigidness that is Zer0, hoping to shock the other with unwanted intimacy. It's worked before, or else he wouldn't have even thought of such a crazy move. Men are so damn predictable and weak, he's the first to admit it.

Their bodies collide, and he feels the shudder course through the assassin in surprise. And disgust, no doubt.

Zer0 steps immediately back in response. It's the reaction Axton's been hoping for, especially when his grip loosens around Axton's throat enough to let him breathe again. It should have been enough for Axton to destabilize him further with a good kick, and finally escape the death hold. That's what he should have done.

Instead, his body moves of its own volition again, but to his shock it apparently wants nothing more than to be  _closer_ to Zer0 still.

_That's... so not the plan..._

When Zer0 naturally attempts to step back, one of Axton's legs wraps reflexively around Zer0's midsection, and forces him back against Axton, chest pressed into chest, belly rubbing against belly, hips slotted against hips.

Axton's stomach tenses in anticipation, still lightheaded but this time it's not the lack of air; it's the fear and _—_ _holy shit—_ arousal raging inside him.

And he doesn't hate it. He lets that sink in, and the acceptance comes easier than expected. Maybe it's been a long time coming. 

Axton absolutely wants to fuck this guy. This incredibly skilled, powerful guy that could kill him any moment now.

_The guy with the waist so narrow and the ass so tight it makes me wanna cry._

It's freeing to be finally able to acknowledge an attraction he's been denying for so long.

Axton doesn't know what he expects the other to do next. Zer0 doesn't move afterwards, or barely, just to release Axton's throat further until his gloved fingers are simply resting there, right over their own bruises. His helmet display is inscrutable as the depths of a black hole, and he's silent, not even his breathing picking up. The only evidence that he's alive comes from the heat radiating through the suit, and the way his body subtly moves into Axton's with each intake of breath.

Axton's always batted for both teams, but he never expected to find himself in a situation where he'd be aroused by such a freak.

_Does that make me a freak, too? ...aw, fuck._

As expected, it's not that easy to get the oh-so elusive asshole to get on with the program.

 _If..._ this... _is your wish / make it worth my time, hunter. / I'm very busy._

For once, the sarcasm doesn't sting, and Axton chokes out a laugh, only slightly surprised to find himself amused by the assassin's wit.

Fuck, but his throat still hurts. Less laughing, then.

"Oh right," he teases back, his free hand sliding rough and (he hopes) seductive down the fabric of Zer0's suit, "you have so many places to be, I'm sure. That's why I can't seem to escape you, these days, yeah? Now get your hand down my pants and I'll apologize all you want. _You_  owe me way more than a quickie in a dark alley but, hey, I'll take what I can get!"

 _I owe you nothing_ , Zer0 immediately retorts, threatening.

But Axton isn't sure he really heard that, because the next thing he knows, Zer0's hand is right where he's been craving it, making his skin break out in goosebumps and the hairs all over his body rise in anticipation.

Even with the glove, he can practically feel all the ways Zer0's hand isn't human, and that's yet another thrill that's almost enough to send his arousal skyrocketing. In his defense, it's been a while since he last indulged in another person's touch. 

Axton doesn't beg, but the noises Zer0 pulls out of him are low and sultry and when he reaches his climax, he arches up into the taller figure and buries his face against Zer0's neck.

The suit smells of plastic and gun powder.

Axton grunts and mashes his mouth over the same spot again and again reflexively, in time with the thrusts of his hips, only now remembering how much he misses kissing. How much he loves it, and needs it coupled with a _good_ , hard pounding.

When he comes back to, feeling a bit weak in the knees, he watches Zer0 step back and wipe his hand over his own pants. The assassin looks slightly unsteady, but Axton can't spot a single sign of answering arousal on him.

"Okay, that's gonna leave a bruise on my ego," he jokes, blatantly pointing at Zer0's uninterested crotch.

When he looks up with a lazy smile to gauge Zer0's reaction, there's only the red light flickering intermittently across his display, as if he's cycling through symbols. At the speed of light.

Eventually, with a shake of his head, Zer0 turns the display off.

Axton experiences a tiny pang of disappointment at that. He's been curious to see what kind of punchline Zer0 had in store for him. Another sarcastic remark to bring him down a peg or two? Or something else?

An invitation to reciprocate?

But without a word, Zer0 turns back to scale the walls to the top of the building he fell from.

And that cold dismissal fucking  _hurts_.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF ALL GOES WELL next chapter should be from Zer0's POV. Until then-thx for stopping by & cya!


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